


Man of My Dreams

by Dresupi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bachelor Auction, Companionable Snark, Crushes, Dreams, F/M, Flirting, One Shot, POV Alternating, POV Brock Rumlow, POV Darcy Lewis, SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22545469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Brock accidentally (it was definitely an accident, okay?) overhears Darcy telling Bobbi about her dream.  Her sex dream.  About him.And he does the right thing and everything. He tells her. Because he wants to handle this like adults, right?Darcy's rightfully embarrassed and promises him it'll go away. Because crushes do that. They just. Go away.;)
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 32
Kudos: 234
Collections: Dresupi's Sweetheart Prompts, Dresupi's Taserbones Fics





	Man of My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibelieveinturtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/gifts).



> _I want to thank treaddelicately for beta-reading this for me! Thank you, dear! <3 <3 <3 _

**DARCY**

**~~~~~**

“So, like… I was having this dream, right?” Darcy began, reaching over to steal a chip from the bag Bobbi had in front of her. “Like, you know I don’t normally have dreams that make any kind of sense. Or that I even remember usually.”

“Right, yeah…” Bobbi nodded, snatching her chip bag out of Darcy’s reach. “But judging by your tone, this one was neither nonsense nor forgettable?”

“Correct,” Darcy said. “It was neither of those things. It was a…” She lowered her voice for the next part. “ _Sex dream_.”

Her friend had no reaction. “So? I have those all the time. Me and Timothy Olyphant tear up the sheets on a regular basis. Sometimes Uma Thurman joins us.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t about a celebrity though. It was about _someone I know.”_

Bobbi’s eyebrow twitched an almost infinitesimal amount. “ _Someone_ you know?”

“ _Someone_ I see on a regular basis. _Someone_ who comes into my office on the regular.”

“You’re about to say it’s me, and then we’re going to find out this has been some straight dude lesbian porno the whole time, aren’t we?”

“No,” Darcy sighed, kicking her under the table. “It’s _Brock,_ you goober.” She’d meant to whisper that last bit. But it all came tumbling out without preamble. “It’s Brock, and I think… I think I’m having feelings.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped, which was a helluva reaction to get from her assassin-friend. She also scooted the bag of chips back over for Darcy to reach. This was chip-sharing news. It was serious.

“You’re _not_. You can’t have feelings for Brock. You said it before. He’s hairy and icky.”

“I only tell him that in order to keep his ego in check. Do you know how impossible he’d be if he found out I thought he was attractive?”

Bobbi groaned. “Only too well.”

“Okay, so you _know_ this obviously has to stay between us, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, well…” Darcy chomped down on another chip.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Bobbi teased. “Not just an aesthetic appreciation for how long he spends in the gym?”

“I don’t care if he’s shredded like a bag of cheese at a Taco Bell, the most aesthetically pleasing thing about him is that fucking jawline.”

Bobbi inhaled sharply, nodding. “That jawline’s what shreds the cheese at Taco Bell.”

“Okay, so I thought the feelings I got after the dream would go away, but it’s been like two weeks, and they haven’t.”

“You want me to ask Hill to send you to Hawaii or something? You could get a suntan, forget about old whats-his-name. Find yourself a cabana boy. To mix your drinks and toss your salad.”

Darcy had to admit, the offer sounded tempting. But she was happy with what she was doing now. Which was training with Bobbi to become a better field agent and get sent out on more missions. She had the brain for hacking, but she needed the strength so SHIELD would actually send her out to do it. If she asked for a fluff assignment just because she was all gaga over a sex dream where Brock went down on her like it was his job, then well… she probably needed to reevaluate what she wanted out of this job.

There were far worse reasons to ask for a fluff assignment. Hot and horny for Agent Rumlow wasn’t one of them.

“Nah, I should be fine. I might need to go get a massage or something. I could be stressed. They say that sex dreams are never about sex, right? It’s about… something else I’m lacking.”

Bobbi stifled a laugh, but not very well since Darcy could very well hear it. “Yeah. Something you’re lacking.”

“Stop it,” Darcy grabbed the last chip. “I’m gonna book a massage, wanna come with?”

“You know I won’t say no to a spa day.”

“Didn’t say anything about a spa day.”

Bobbi shot her a look. “You’re just gonna get a massage and _not_ get a wrap and a facial?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Darcy pulled out her phone to book appointments on the spa’s app. “Under the usual pseuds?”

“You know it.”

“So, uh… speaking of people upon which we have crushes…” Darcy said, dragging it out in a sing-song way that was annoying Bobbi. She reached for her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Just say it, you know you want to.”

“How many bachelor raffle tickets are you buying now that Lance is up for grabs?”

“Zero,” Bobbi said with a smirk.

“What?” Darcy followed her out of the cafeteria. “What do you mean, zero? Are you guys over again?”

“Again. For good. Good riddance. I heard Simmons is selling a romantic picnic. I might go for that,” Bobbi said with a shrug.

“Oh? You and Simmons?”

Her friend smiled and mimed zipping her lips. “Nothing to talk about yet, so…”

“Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just languish away in the land of the unknown gossip.”

“Guess you’ll have to,” Bobbi replied, linking her arm with Darcy’s to hurry her up towards the parking garage.

* * *

**RUMLOW**

**~~~~~**

Rumlow knew he probably should have either made his presence known or somehow left the cafeteria before Darcy got started in on the meat of her story. But every time he started to move, his chair would squeak, and he knew she’d hear him. Then she’d turn around and be embarrassed. Because, by the time he figured out he should leave, she was already spilling to Morse about her sex dream. About _him_.

Did it make him a pig if he preened a little because of her dream? Her dream about _him_? He couldn’t imagine any man in his position could hear Lewis talk about her nocturnal fantasies and _not_ square his shoulders a little. That didn’t make it okay and he knew it. Most men were not the type of person anyone should aspire to mimic. He probably shouldn’t be taking the easy way out and using them to gauge where he was on the dickhead meter.

He stayed stock-still like his years of training prepared him to do. His back was to the two of them, but he could see their reflections in the shiny mirrors placed all over the lunchroom. Probably due to some rule that served to make everyone a little less nervous. Ever since that whole Hydra incident, everyone had wanted eyes in the backs of their heads. Everyone had also given him dirty looks for an entire year after he’d come back to the organization. Even after he’d been outed as a triple agent, they still didn’t trust him.

It didn’t seem to matter if the logistics of him being a quadruple agent were close to nil. But he was digressing.

The task at hand was to wait until Lewis and Morse were finished with their discussion and keep both of them from seeing him folded into a table at the corner, trying to look smaller than he was and blend into the wall.

He was far from the only other person here. In fact, one could wonder why Lewis chose such a crowded room to talk about her little clandestine crush on him.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Morse teased.

Rumlow couldn’t see it, but he was fairly certain Lewis was rolling her eyes now. _He_ would be.

They talked for a while longer before they left for a spa day. He had to say, he was relieved Lewis wouldn’t be transferring. He very much doubted a sex dream would account for a transferral across the country like that. Plus, SHIELD allowed inter-company relationships. As long as they were disclosed to HR.

What, did she not think he’d reciprocate? Did she really not know how much he’d give to have her return one of his heated glances? Just one?

He picked up his fork again, swirling it through the leftover mashed potatoes on his plate. Before he could do anything, he’d have to come clean to her. After years of lying to everyone he knew, being truthful was very important to him.

So he’d have to tell her the truth, then he could gloat all he wanted about Darcy liking his chiseled jaw. She liked it _a lot_ , apparently. Even more than his abs. Which he kind of thought was one of his better features. But whatever. He wasn’t about to argue with a lady he found one-hundred-percent fuckable in every single way. Hell, he’d even call her pretty if she asked. How’s that for a supposed dickhead.

Yeah, that didn’t really change anything, now that he thought about it.

* * *

**DARCY**

**~~~~~**

Darcy was minding her own business while losing a staring contest with the vending machine because while she was indeed focused inward, it wasn’t on what snack she wanted. Because truth be told, she didn’t really want a snack at all.

Well, she _did_ want a snack, but the snack she wanted was obnoxious and conceited and knew he was a snack and who wanted a snack that knew he was a snack, right?

 _He is not the snack you’re looking for…_ she thought, her mental-voice wavering and her mental hands shimmying. She’d make a good Jedi, dammit.

“Hey, you got a second?”

She turned, halfway through assuring the person standing behind her that she’d almost made her selection when she realized that wasn’t what they’d asked at all.

And besides, the snack she wasn’t looking for was behind her. Brock Rumlow _and_ his should-be-illegal jawline were standing there, looking at once lickable and slappable in that confusing way he had.

Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, I got a few. Whatcha need, Stallone?”

He smirked a kind of a half-cocked, half crooked sort of expression that made him even hotter. If that were possible. Which it apparently was. “Stallone’s looking pretty rough these days, can I choose another actor?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You don’t get to pick ‘em, sorry bout it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen… I need to talk to you about something,” Brock began, lowering his voice in a way that both made Darcy have to lean forward, and also tickled her in places she wasn’t about to admit to being tickled by a voice.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning against the side of the vending machine.

“Look, I saw you in the cafeteria the other day… with Bobbi?”

Alarm flared immediately, her skin heating up and cooling just as quickly. “Oh?” Maybe he hadn’t heard it. Or at least hadn’t heard the whole entire thing.

_Oh please Thor, let him not have heard the entire thing. Let the sound of air whistling between his ears have drowned it out or something… please?_

“Yeah, I, uh… I should have told you I was sitting there, I’m sorry…” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a way that at least felt contrite.

“Sitting _where_?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding shrill and a touch panicky.

“Behind you. I couldn’t see you, so I didn’t even know it was you and what you were talking about until it was too late. I didn’t want to embarrass you so--”

“So you just sat there and listened? Dude! Not cool!”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you had a good little laugh at my expense didn’t you?” Darcy asked, her tone icy and cold. “So funny how I’m all warm for you, isn’t it? Well, suck a dick, Rumlow! You’d only be so lucky.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Are you done? Because I wanted to have an adult conversation about this and--”

“And nothing. I am done. Do you know? Because it’s not a real crush. It’s just because of the dream. That’s it. It’s going to go away.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, sounding very much like he didn’t believe her.

But Darcy didn’t really care. Anything was better than having him make fun of her, or worse… having him ‘let her down easy’ or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Yup. It’s gonna be gone by Valentine’s Day, I can guaran-damn-tee it.”

“By Valentine’s huh? You’d better go out and snap up a date then,” he sneered.

“Maybe I will! Hell, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna buy _ten_ of those bachelor raffle tickets they’re selling around here. I”m gonna buy ‘em, hope and hope and cross my fingers, and if they call my name, I’m gonna hook up with a hottie. You know anyone who’s selling them?”

“I am,” he said smugly. “I’m one of the bachelors being raffled.”

“Awesome. Put me down for ten. I’ll Venmo the money to wherever.”

“They set up a fund. I’ll message you the information…” He pulled out his phone and swiped around until Darcy had a link in her DMs. She immediately sent the money, not looking up at him once. “Thanks. I’ll see you there,” he ventured.

Darcy chuckled. “Not if I see you first, Stallone.”

She wasn’t sure what that was, exactly. But she was embarrassed and had just spent a thousand dollars on bachelor raffle tickets. Someone should take her debit card away when she was like this.

* * *

**RUMLOW**

**~~~~~**

The raffle took place the week before Valentine’s Day, and Rumlow had worn his formal wear like he’d been instructed to. He thought he looked pretty good. He’d even spent extra time on his hair. Well, more time than usual, and that was saying something because he was not born with this volume naturally. It took work.

Raffle cards were drawn by Agent May. With her smirking face, she drew card after card. Some men, some women. Some were people he knew, some weren’t.

And one by one, the bachelors and bachelorettes were chosen, until there were only about five of them left. Himself, Lance Hunter, Mack, May herself, and Simmons.

May drew the next raffle card, and her eyes widened, grinning as she read the name.

“Darcy Lewis.”

Rumlow’s stomach dropped down into his gut. She’d said she wouldn’t choose him. That’s what she’d said.

So why was he so nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous.

Except he didn’t want to see her pick any of the others up here. He could see her picking Simmons just so Fitz wouldn’t have a conniption. Simmons wasn’t a threat per se.

If she picked Hunter, though. Or Mack. Or May.

Rumlow’s stomach settled like a stone in his gut as he watched her make her way up from her seat to the stage to take her pick.

May was grinning between him and her like she was expecting something to happen. He was almost sorry to disappoint her. But it would also be fun to watch Darce subvert May’s expectations.

Darcy was looking between the five of them up here. Rumlow subconsciously reached up to straighten his collar and someone catcalled. At him? He couldn’t be sure.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, he was dreading what she’d say.

“Agent Rumlow, I guess.”

His eyebrows raised in pure surprise, but he was the only one who seemed surprised.

“Certainly seemed to deliberate on that decision,” May teased and nodded in his direction. “C’mon, Rumlow. Tell her what she’s won.”

“I uh… I’ll take her out dancing and for a five-star dinner. I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he added at the end, to another round of catcalling. He wrinkled his nose. People were gross. “I mean it,” he added. “No sarcasm.”

Darcy tilted her head and held out her hand. Realizing belatedly that he was supposed to take it and vacate the stage, Rumlow stumbled a little as they left the stage and walked back behind the makeshift curtain they had up.

“I thought you weren’t going to pick me,” he said, smirking a little as Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make me regret my decision. You promised to be a gentleman.”

“ _On_ the date.”

“Fine, but no funny business or I’ll cancel the date. I don’t mind donating a thousand bucks to charity.”

“That you didn’t have to bother, I’d have taken you out for nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. But at least this way, you can’t make fun of me for falling for you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he countered.

She shot him a look.

“I’d _barely_ do that.”

“I’ll see you on Valentine’s, Rumlow.” She turned to leave. “You’ve got my number.” It was a statement, not a question.

He did have it. And he’d have complained more about their short convo if he hadn’t gotten to watch her walk away. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a ruffled blouse.

Fuck, she was pretty.

There. He was getting better.

* * *

**DARCY**

**~~~~~**

Darcy shifted in her seat after Brock had pushed her chair in behind her. The food was already ordered, she’d just come back from the bathroom to find out it had been served.

Prime rib and sweet pea risotto.

Hers was untouched, which… was kind of a given considering that even at his worst, Brock wasn’t an animal who would steal his date’s food. But his was untouched too, which meant he’d waited for her to return.

He’d just taken his seat and scooped up his fork and steak knife, holding them poised as he looked at her expectantly.

“You want me to say grace?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow expectantly. He was Catholic. Or he pretended well. He had that saint on the dashboard of his car. Why did she know that?

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless that’s your thing. I was just waiting for you. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “Yeah, it is.” Her voice sounded sour, but she wasn’t sure why.

The date was everything he’d promised it would be. And maybe that’s what was wrong. He was being a total gentleman. And this wasn’t what had attracted her to him. This weird Ken-doll approach to a romantic evening. Hell, she half expected him to have a hot pink Jeep Wrangler when he picked her up. Everything he did felt forced and plastic.

Dancing had been fun, but he had held her a respectable distance away, the only heat she felt was from his hands on her waist. He had this way of looking at her sometimes. The heat barely contained behind those dark eyes of his, and she felt like she was about to combust.

That look was gone. Or hidden, at the very least.

And now they were eating dinner. Well, they were about to, and he was waiting for her to start before he even so much as cut his steak? This was weird. Too weird. She didn’t like it.

“Eat when you want, dude. No skin off my nose,” she reached for her steak knife and began to slice through the prime rib.

It was good. It wasn’t like she was expecting aged prime rib to be _bad_ or anything, but it was really good. She ate too much. But she still tried to eat some of the dessert. It was chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and some kind of cherry cordial on top. They lit it on fire before bringing it to the table.

And as she and Brock shared it, she caught his eye, their spoons clinked, and she saw an inkling of that heat she’d been missing. He was looking at her like he usually did, not like Date-Brock had been. “You wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

“Well, the date officially ends when I take you to your door,” he said warily.

“Okay, so the date ends and then my good friend Rumlow comes in for coffee at eleven at night for no reason other than I have coffee to make and he’s in the neighborhood? Sound good?”

She happened to know she was fresh out of coffee, so she really, _really_ hoped he’d either settle for tea or realize this wasn’t actually coffee she was asking for.

He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing before he nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

They left after he paid for the meal. He offered his arm after they put on their coats. She hung on with both hands and could feel his muscles flex even through his coat and suit jacket. The cab ride back to her place was kind of quiet, except for the occasional throat-clearing sound from their driver, who looked as if she was about ten minutes past ready to be home.

Darcy kind of knew how she felt. But for different reasons.

Brock joined her on the ride up to her apartment from the lobby, standing a respectable distance away from her in the elevator and pressing his hand against the doors to allow her to exit first. They arrived at her front door and he held one hand out to kiss the back of hers. She gave him a sweet smile, thanked him for the lovely evening, and disappeared behind her door.

She counted to ten and opened it again. “Heya Brock, wanna come in for coffee?”

“ _Absolutely_.”

She reached out to close her fingers around his tie and drag him back into the apartment after her.

Her heart was thrumming, beating hard and fast as she pulled him close enough for his lips to _finally_ crash over hers. “I promise I wasn’t trying to do this tonight,” he whispered between kisses and shrugging out of their coats.

“Why not?” she asked, grinning against his lips when their teeth clacked once.

“Was trying to be polite,” he replied, kicking off his shoes and following her lips first into her apartment, never breaking the kiss even to talk.

She was working her fingers in his tie to loosen the knot when she spoke again. “I didn’t like Date-Brock, so I hope he’s gone for good.”

“Oh thank god, I didn’t like him either,” he murmured, following her towards the stairs. “Holy shit, your apartment has two floors?”

“Yes, I bought the one above me when it vacated. Now shush and stop being so polite, Rumlow.”

“Look, sweetheart, I’ll manhandle you if that’s what you want, but I ain’t ever gonna shush.”

“Ah, so you’re a screamer?” she teased, inhaling sharply when his hands fumbled at her back for her zipper, found it, and slid it deftly down her back.

She stepped away, her dress pooling around her feet as she stepped back up the stairs, turning at the last second because falling on her ass wasn’t the way she wanted this evening to go.

Maneuvering the stairs was kind of tricky, especially when Brock couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself. He kept running his palm over her ass when she turned to climb up a few steps, popping the elastic in her black lace panties and saying shit in that raspy, sex-drunk voice of his.

“Fuck, honey, you look even better going than you do coming…”

Darcy arched her eyebrow at him. “You haven’t seen me coming yet, don’t get ahead of yourself…”

They were finally at the landing on her second floor. Brock laughed and she tugged him by his waistband into her bedroom. She made quick work of the button and the zipper on his suit pants, and he slid out of them like he was made to do it, crawling up after her on the mattress.

Okay, so his abs were definitely something she’d write home about. Grammy Lewis would have some words about Mr. Brock Rumlow, and none of them were fit for children to hear.

Grammy Lewis wasn’t the mental image she really wanted in her head right now, so she laid back on the pillows and watched Brock’s muscles ripple as he moved above her.

She’d like to climb on top of him, but he never let her get that far, hovering over her and rutting against her hip while his lips did absolutely sinful things to hers. And then down the column of her throat. And then down over her collarbone and then…

He pushed one hand under her breast until the nipple just popped over the lacy edge of her bra. He licked it roughly, wetting the lace in the process and making it rasp over the sensitive peak. Her hands tangled in his hair and he grunted. _Growled_. Rocked his hips against her until she could feel the stiffness of his cock sliding against her mound.

“Fuck,” she whispered, yanking on his hair and causing him to release her breast. His dark eyes searched hers and she reached down to shimmy out of her panties.

He followed suit, pushing his jockeys down over his hips and kicking them off.

Brock ran his fingers over her pussy, tucking two fingers inside and wriggling them in a very pleasing way. “Fuck me, you’re soaked…”

“I’m trying to fuck you,” she whispered, biting her lip when he pushed one of her legs up at the knee and lined himself up. He was thick, so he pushed in slowly, but when his hips met hers, Darcy gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just fuck me,” she commanded, reaching around to sink her nails into his ass cheeks, relishing the hiss that resulted.

He sat back and extended her leg up so her ankle rested on his shoulder and leaned forward again, his hips setting a grueling pace that rocked her so hard, she had to moan. She couldn’t _not_ moan at this point. One hand snaked between them to her other breast, to push it up out of the bra as well. Once they were both out, they bounced, nipples brushing over lace and making her breath catch as his hips hammered into her.

Their skin slapped and the bed hit the wall, her headboard rattling in time with his hips. He was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl and that she couldn’t reach herself unless she had some sort of toy. But this was… _god,_ it was so much better.

“Brock,” she hissed. “Please, please, babe… I’m--”

“Almost there?” He grinned and slid his hand down between them to thumb over her clit and push her right over the edge without hesitation.

He must have finished soon after because he was pulling out and ducking down between her thighs to flick his tongue over her clit and make her back arch. His tongue dove down into her opening and when she realized what he was doing, it just made her clench her thighs all the more tightly around his head.

“Jesus, Brock…”

Her second orgasm wasn’t nearly as intense as the first, but she was shaking when he pushed up on his elbows and leaned his head against her bent knee.

“You want one more?” he asked, licking his lips in an obscene way that made her want to say yes, even if her clit couldn’t possibly do anything else without hurting.

“Maybe later,” she said with a sigh, falling back on the pillows as he crawled up beside her.

“You’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“You look better coming than going.”

She would have swatted him, but she had no energy, so she just rolled over and cuddled against his side.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” she asked, jutting out her bottom lip when she looked up at him.

“Not sure it’d be polite,” he teased.

“Definitely stay then. Because your rudeness turns me on.”

“Was I rude in your dream?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “Not as rude as you were just then, though.”

“Sorry, I’ll always ask before oral.”

“You’d better not,” she warned, hiking her leg up and over his hips before settling down.

**Author's Note:**

> xoxo! Gimme that sweetheart sugar, ya'll. <3 <3 <3


End file.
